As clouds race by and time stands still,
Images float and wax surreal.
English sonnets plummet down from castle tops.
Below, a dense grey fog shrouds a blue-green copse.
Misty mountains that loom overhead
Cast their shadows of morbid dread.
Crooked steps lead to lies and deception—
I lose my way in a sea of obsession.
I walk with the dead on a sandy beach
As apparitions melt and spirits leach.
The air hangs on me like a velvet drape;
The drawbridge is up and I can’t escape.
Terror envelopes me in soft, dark clouds
And lingers over my burial shrouds.
Clean, breaking waves crash over my coffin.
Dissolving the stones, my bed they soften.
Sliding, crashing, shattering my locks.
Slippery fingers grab at the rocks.
Jagged cliffs scream at the sky,
Climbing crags dang’rously high.
Rugged rocks rip open my gown,
Tearing flesh, plunging me down.
Falling and flying through salt-water air.
Screaming and scratching feeds my nightmare.
Falling forever, eternally sleep.
Grotesque reflections in waters so deep.
Watery grave swallowed and sealed
Revels in dark secrets revealed.
Souls possessed coveted no more
Dream only to rest—evermore.—Christina Knowles (2000)